Oh, the joys of alcohol and absinthe...

I just came home (3:45 AM) from ensuring that a very drunk, very emotional friend got back to their place without killing their significant other or inflicting any further emotional damage on themselves. The lesson I learned this evening is absinthe is bad. Never give it to someone who cannot handle their liquor. I was offered a shot and laughed. I can barely handle a shot of whiskey, absinthe certainly is not in my future.

Anyway, as I got this friend home, I kind of marveled at what alcohol does to one. I sort of envied the blamelessness of whatever you say when you’re that drunk, because the next day, everyone will disregard it and go, “You know, they were really drunk when they said that.” And everyone goes on their merry way.

I think I am envious of the way drunks rail about in almost-truths and unexpressed emotions, throwing out things that are buried so deep down that we don’t dare talk about them without the solace of alcohol. Everything seems to clear when you’re that drunk and it’s so important to tell the person(s) around you exactly what you’re thinking and feeling about them, good or bad.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never really allowed myself to get absolutely shit-faced, throw up in the car on the way home, confess my deepest darkest secrets kind of drunk. I’ve been tipsy, bordering on drunk. My recent margarita-soaked trip to Vegas had those moments where I was dangerously close to going over to the dark side. One more drink and there would have been things said that I wouldn’t have been able to take back, to cover up. I felt the edge of it coming on and chose not to have that next drink. Luckily, I was with someone I trusted and they didn’t push when I said I had had enough. I have never been able to allow myself to be that vulnerable.

I almost wish I could. Then I could say the things I’ve wanted to say and have that drunken night excuse to cover them up the next day. Believe it or not, there are emotions and feelings I haven’t been able to express throughout these past few months and maybe one long night of whiskey shots or margaritas could help that. There are things I’ve wanted to say to people around me that I would never be able to stone cold sober, both good things and bad things, and things that might change relationships. Those, especially, should never be uttered unless completely and stupidly drunk. Then you can hide behind the liquor and pretend you didn’t mean any of it. People will go along with that, for a while at least.

Instead, I’ll stand by and watch over those who choose to embrace the freedom that liquor gives you. I’ll mock you when you’re that drunk, be sure of that. But know that a part of me wishes I could just join in, throw caution and my insane compulsion for control to the wind, confessing everything about unrequited love and murderous hate and everything in between. I’ll make sure you make it home and tuck you in, just as I did tonight. But be warned. If I ever join you, I expect you to return the favor and take my secrets to the grave with you.